


Damaged Intensity

by neverminetohold



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Developing Relationship, Episode 2x13 Redline, Episode Related, First Time, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 17:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/pseuds/neverminetohold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life as a millionaire gets boring with time, which makes being a murder suspect and having the attention of a wannabe 'medium' fun in Walter's book. He's determined to enjoy himself for as long as it lasts; involves cheese, blind driving and ultimately a morning after...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Disclaimer: The Mentalist belongs to Bruno Heller and CBS. No copyright infringement intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damaged Intensity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadownashira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadownashira/gifts).



> I took the liberty of using parts of the episodes dialogue without changes; this is a re-telling from Walter's POV with some scenes added/changed/extended plus an alternate ending. Thus it might not make much sense without knowledge of episode 2x13 Redline.

His day began to take an interesting turn. It was something out of the ordinary, after all, when the authorities dropped in to question you on the murder of a passing acquaintance. Walter gave the pretty woman a more thorough once over and had no problem to reconcile his first impression with his new knowledge that she was a CBI agent.  
  
“Do you have a moment?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
His lazy-suggestive smile was habit, but he suspected that ship had already sailed. A shame, but tough independent women in jobs dominated by men tended to be immune against his playboy charm. He relished a good challenge, of course, but Walter was by now a bit weary of waking up in a cold bed the morning after.  
  
How depressing to be so jaded before even hitting fifty.  
  
“Let's talk somewhere less stuffy, shall we?” Walter shoved the fifty dollar bill back into his trouser pocket and gestured to the right. “This way.”  
  
Agent Lisbon trailed after him as he made his way through the club's dining area and towards the terrace where his usual table overlooked the ocean. The sound of waves breaking themselves on the cliff got more pronounced with each step. Other members greeted him; gestures Walter returned with a casual nod.  
  
An exasperated sigh from behind stopped him on the threshold, half-way in the bright sunlight.  
  
“Please excuse me, Mr. Mashburn, I'll be back in a moment.”  
  
Walter watched as Agent Lisbon made a beeline towards the head receptionist; Tim was arguing with another man. From where he stood he couldn't hear what was said, but it was easy enough to conclude that her colleague had caused a scene of sorts, probably a distraction for her to look into the books. She gestured to where he stood and when Tim glanced his way, Walter nodded to let them both pass.  
  
“Thank you for your patience.” Lisbon's side-way glance had the air of long suffering. “This is Patrick Jane, he works for the CBI as a consultant.”  
  
“Mr. Mashburn.”  
  
Walter took the offered hand and returned the firm shake with equal force. Becoming rich had made him a good judge of character through bitter lessons, so he gave this Patrick a casual once-over: blond hair, a charming smile that didn't reach his intense green eyes (curious that, there had to be a story there), dressed in a tailored three-piece suit – and had Patrick's fingers just shifted to take his pulse?  
  
Interesting indeed.  
  
XXX  
  
Not two minutes into the conversation something crunched loudly, followed by an exaggerated moan of pleasure. Walter stopped short and looked across the table to where Agent Lisbon had taken her seat. She didn't look surprised to have her interview interrupted, but clearly that didn't make her less annoyed.  
  
“Is it any good?” she asked, her tone the same most adults adopted when confronted with a child that demanded attention by acting naughty.  
  
When Walter had offered her a drink she had declined with a certain force behind it that he had only ever met in recovering alcoholics or their families. Patrick, on the other hand, had seized opportunity where they both had been distracted to order himself a snack, much to her embarrassment.  
  
It took Patrick a moment to chew and swallow his mouthful of salad. “Yes, very good, aside from the cheese topping; they used that analogue stuff. That's deadly, almost as bad as meat slurry. Such a nice club, who would have guessed?”  
  
“They don't.”  
  
It was a knee-jerk reaction, one Walter instantly regretted when he remembered how the taste of his favorite dish had changed after the club had hired a new cook. He had even mentioned it to Tim.  
  
Patrick smiled knowingly and sorted the cheese to one side of his plate, “I'm no gourmet, but I know crap when I taste it.”  
  
“Jane!”  
  
Patrick smiled brightly at Lisbon through another mouthful of salad and ignored her deepening frown with practiced ease. He licked a drop of vinegar away before he turned to Walter. “Thank you for the invitation.”  
  
Walter was in no hurry to lift his gaze from Patrick's lips. This interview was quite the interesting variation on the typical good cop/bad cop routine. But they were wasting their time if they thought he would be provoked to drop his guard that easily. Walter was more amused than anything and his entertainment nowadays came rarely at the cheap price of a salad.  
  
“You're welcome. And to answer your question, Agent Lisbon: I liked Liselle. Smart woman. It's a damn shame to lose her.”  
  
Walter took a sip from his Chardonnay, savoring the fruity aroma, before he cleaned his moist fingers on the napkin. He could feel the constant attention of green eyes on his every move even though Patrick seemed occupied with nothing but his plate or the breathtaking view of the cliffs.  
  
“Were you sleeping with her?”  
  
Walter chuckled, he had expected the question and the bluntness it was asked with did not shock him.  
  
“If I slept with everyone I gave gifts to, I wouldn't get any work done.”  
  
Not that he hadn't tried. Liselle had been his type, intelligent and straightforward, with a certain intensity about her, but she had had a boyfriend and not been interested in a one-night stand. He had respected that and backed off.  
  
“Ah.” Patrick speared a tomato. “But you propositioned her and she said no.”  
  
The illusion of someone reading his mind had a certain thrill to it, even though Walter knew it was nothing but tricks and a keen eye for body language. He turned in his seat to face Patrick fully, shutting Agent Lisbon out of the conversation.  
  
“Perceptive. You're a psychic, aren't you?”  
  
Patrick ignored the disdain in Walter's tone with what seemed to be the ease of long practice and the self-assurance of someone who gave a damn about others opinions. Or maybe it was – numbness.  
  
“What makes you say that?”  
  
Walter's jovial smile gained teeth. “You have this charlatan air about you.”  
  
Patrick made a soft noise that could have become a laugh had it not been cut off and transformed into a delighted grin. It lend him a boyish quality that caught Walter's eye. This was an interview and yet it felt like a game. He wondered idly what the reward for winning might be and if it was worth to invest his time.  
  
More importantly – this was new.  
  
“Do I?”  
  
“Yes. My second – No, my third wife was into all that mystical goop. You learn to recognize the type. The arrogance to know the answer to everything just by looking, the cheap acting, the sweet words for all those desperate fools who want to contact their loved ones.”  
  
“How many wives have you had?”  
  
That wasn't too happy a topic, but it was his own fault for providing such an easy opening.  
  
“Enough to know better.” Walter hesitated only a second before adding, “I'm currently unattached.”  
  
"That's good to know,” Patrick said, his eyes bright with mirth. He grinned over to Agent Lisbon who had cleared her throat to remind them that she was, in fact, still there.  
  
She grabbed the opportunity to get the conversation back under control and steer it in the right direction. “So were you sleeping with Liselle or not?”  
  
“Not. The print was a reward for finding me an Austin Healey two-seater from 1960. Only a few hundred were made – she had earned that gift,” Walter answered and caught the waiters eye who had brought an order to the closest table.  
  
“And the appointment you had with her the day she died?”  
  
“To pick up the car. A beauty, but I just got a new toy.” Walter drained the last sip of his wine. “Do you want to see it?”  
  
He had addressed Patrick, but Agent Lisbon answered “No, thanks” the same moment he said “I'd love to.” They shared a look, hers the kind that telegraphed 'What the hell are you doing?' but the only answer she got was a nonchalant shrug.  
  
“I'd love to, “ Patrick repeated, which seemed to settle things. “Just one question before we go – did you kill Liselle?”  
  
Walter smirked, not fazed in the slightest by that intense look. The longer he kept Patrick guessing, the better. “Jake, check please.”

 

tbc...

 


End file.
